


Little Pleasures

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Foxtrot [29]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, The Dollhouse - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: any Whedonverse. any male character. little pleasures. Victor and his imprints on Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Pleasures

Anthony would never admit it, but he liked letting Kiki out to dance with Traci. He could turn off his own mind and forget. He'd thought the Dollhouse was the most terrifying threat to human-kind, and then he learned about the Wraith and the Replicators, and sometimes it was all too much.  
  
The archivist had a stash of musical instruments expedition members could borrow in their spare time, and sometimes Anthony would check out the old violin. It wasn't a particularly nice instrument, something more fitting a middle school orchestra player than Tom Voran, imprint of an NSA agent who could have gone to Julliard but had gone into government service instead, because all Vorans served their country. He found an empty room on a distant pier and serenaded the walls, and he felt a little better. Occasionally, in a fit of nostalgia, he'd play songs he knew Priya liked, record them and send them back to her at the SGC in the weekly databurst.  
  
Lieutenant Cadman was a brilliant fencer, having made it to Olympic qualifiers in her college years, and Anthony would fire up his Roger imprint once a week so they could spar. In the back of his mind, Roger missed Adelle, but Victor refused to miss her, the woman who'd thought she was protecting him but was instead pimping him out. The burn of adrenaline scoured away his bitterness against her. In the end she'd done the right thing, and it had been just enough for him and some of the other actives to escape.  
  
What Anthony liked to do for himself, though, was run. He'd run and run and run, sometimes borrow a jumper to head to the mainland and race along pristine beaches and clear blue water. When he'd been stationed in Afghanistan, his morning runs had been the only thing that kept him sane, the repetitive motion and exertion soothing, like meditation. Even when he'd been in the doll state as Victor he'd enjoyed running, was always pleased when his handler suggested he take a turn on the treadmill.  
  
What Anthony needed to do, though, was finish making the imprint chair so he could take it home and fix what Rossum had broken.


End file.
